Fast Track Prototype

WTF Weekend: Going The Way of the Turkey

The entire week consisted of drinking, eating and sleeping. In that order from greatest consumption to least consumption. It actually started a weekend early. Our friends and I had the annual Thanksgiving/Christmas party where the pot luck table was so full, I almost felt like I didn’t have to bring food. For once we had somewhat of an alcohol shortage, well good alcohol and was left with crappy wine and weird vodka ice tea mixtures. I know, chick shit written all over it. However I’m not one to turn down alcohol so despite my dislike for very sugary alcoholic drinks I pulled up my panties and drank.

The hardest part about drinking at any Thanksgiving dinner is balancing the space in your stomach for food and alcohol. If you’re too full you can’t drink a lot. At the same time, if you eat too much it also takes a lot more alcohol to get to you. So it’s either you don’t eat and get drunk fast, or you do eat and drink a lot. There seems to be no happy middle ground. Go big or go home.

Tuesday my roommates and I started what will hopefully be a tradition of us going out for the holidays before we depart for our own with our families. We hit up Karaoke Bleu and managed to wax three bottles of vodka, sing songs we can’t remember and ended up eating meals that pretty much greeted us in burps the next morning. Despite the two times we shall never speak of, Bleu never fails.

I spent my Thanksgiving with my roommate’s family – always a riot. We ended up broiling catfish, eating oysters, turkey and pig and still managed to knock back mega sized bottles of Grey Goose and sing obnoxiously on a magic mic with still more time and space to burn soju shots at the end of the night.

Saturday an old buddy of mine was having his annual potluck and in good old Mexican fashion it was a night of beers, tequila and a whole lot of laughs. I think between the three of us, us being my friend’s sisters and myself, we went through more than half the giant Costco sized bottle of Patron ourselves. I counted at least 7 shots. This is not including the Crown and Cokes and Fat Tires. I had to keep my spinning head from coming off the neck and forced myself to drink what I believe was about 72 oz. of water so that I wouldn’t have the massive hangover I was expecting to have in the morning.

No hangover. Cue mariachi music.

Tags: Holiday, Thanksgiving, WTF Weekend

WTF Weekend: That Was So Last Halloween and Buttonwillow Santa Barbara

The biosuits I was picking up for our costumes were used. Kinda scary. On one hand, I highly doubt they would sell anything that is still contaminated, but the thought that this suit was once possibly exposed to killer chemicals and infectious diseases did cross my mind. If I grow an extra pair of testicles, I’ll let you know. Hell, I’ll put it on Youtube.

We were the Anti-Swine Flu Team, complete with biosuits, goggles and vials of Swine Flu Vaccine aka 100 proof vodka with syringes to apply the “shots.” It was totally a hit – when we weren’t “OMG GHOSTBUSTERS” or “LOLBEASTIEBOYS.”

Emosweater and I decided to hit up Vegas on Sunday for a turnaround and catch up with the others. When we hit state line we grabbed a sixer and downed three beers a piece before we hit the strip so by the time we got to the hotel room we were nice and saucy. Kids don’t try this at home, or anywhere else for that matter.

Lavo was cool, despite the fact that I spent most of my time outside when I finally did go in and join the group groove, I had a blast, up until Fez showed up. Now I don’t know if he was spinning or just hanging out with the DJ but he kept getting on the mic every fuckin 20 seconds to say something. Dude, stop interrupting the song, just let the music play, you’re fuckin annoying. Guess he wasn’t doing much acting on that 70’s show after all.

We hit up Drais afterward, greased the cigar girl a few bucks for free passes for the ladies, got a gander at Optimus Prime and that giant fuzzy Cheshire Cat Looking guy from Where the Wild Things Are in a costume brawl when Michael Jackson showed up and kicked their asses. Then it was a parade of gay men and dancing moonrakers, when Emosweater and I decided it was time to go home or die driving there in a losing battle to slumber.

* * *

This passed weekend Emosweater and I decided it would be fun to catch up with Sketch after his Santa Barbara Half Marathon. It’s got that coastal town feeling to it, like San Deigo, which is something we should have kept in mind when we stopped at Buttonwillow to eat at Carl’s and realized we were way off course. Two and a half hours to be exact. 5 North, straight shot, I didn’t question it. In my mind it sounded right, but we probably would have ended up a few miles outside of San Jose before we realized if we didn’t stop to eat. Without sounding too existential it really was more about the journey and getting outside of LA city limits for a change of pace, which we succeeded in doing, but the downside to it was, well, Santa Barbara just felt like Orange County or San Diego. Granted we were probably setting ourselves up for the local easy stop or the tourist trap setting on Main Street – I mean that would be like us directing folks to Old Town Pasadena or 3rd Street Promenade. These are the places you hang out at when you’re not 21, from out of town or just point all the non-cool people to when you need to send them to some generic place to do stuff.

The highlight of the evening, or the downfall depending on who you talk to, was when Emosweater was totally violated by some drunk guy, so much that I totally panicked for a few seconds. My instinct was to grab his hand and drag him out of there or step in between the two to break up space, but it was Emosweater and not some girl and it was a guy that was hitting on him and it was – it was so strange. Either I was frightened by it, or caught in some eerie fascination of what was unfolding. Then at Madison’s, some chola threw some shit at the bartender right next to us and things almost went gansta. I guess the excitement really fired up this random drunk guy, who went on a freak-everyone-at-the-bar-air-humping-spree. Of course Emosweater was the first to be accosted. It was so his night.

The drive home initially was rough, we went through three or four cycles of getting drunk and sobering up that day – with drinking starting at 4 pm, which is really taxing on the body we discovered, but after a few shakes of Monster and doing the ABC’s of name that boob, we made it home.

My favorite: Dirigibles and chesticles. How I never heard of chesticles I’ll never understand. Pure genius.

Tags: half marathons, Halloween, Holiday, Santa Barbara, WTF Weekend

WTF Weekend: Mondays UnFundays

The weekend was pretty chill across the board, unless you want to count a loft sitting friend who found himself drowning in alcohol since Thursday. That’s where mine begins and ends.

I was playing the part of good uncle all weekend long, I had my niece with me so we pretty much spent the entire time eating and playing video games. I did take her with me to a BBQ gone awry when the birthday girl locked herself in her room because her douchebag of a boyfriend along with his cohorts decided that playing poker and playing the cookie game was more appropriate than tending to, what was supposed to be her event – just sayin. How are you gonna be a dick to your girl on her birthday in front of her friends? Oh that’s right, now that you’re surrounded by your posse you can show her and everyone else who the tough guy is. Oh real fuckin tough Asian Glow Boy.

The entire week had been shot admittedly. In what was initially supposed to be a stay-in week, I ended up getting into some trouble with “underage girl” on Tuesday, Not so Price is Right action that same morning and Thursday coming up in a storm and flurry of vodka shots on an empty stomach.

What good is my diet if it gets me drunk and slams me with the munchies afterward? Seriously, it may actually be worse. I can’t honestly recall much from that evening, but the whispers say that I made out extensively with someone, ok I do remember that, but what I don’t remember was trying to make out with another girl behind a bus stop – oops – falling on my face and crushing my nose (I’m still snorting out bloody boogers) and eating at Koraku. My only memory of Koraku was staring into an empty bowl. No really, that’s it. But apparently we had full on conversations about what movie we last cried at. My friend made fun of me because he remembered that I once mentioned crying at My Girl – which at the time that I saw it, was warranted – but seriously, the last movie was Whale Rider. If you have anything resembling a daughter and you don’t cry, you’re fuckin dead inside.

I woke up to find myself in someone’s bed, my car almost towed away (ok I’m being dramatic, I just parked it somewhere else and totally forgot) and getting home at 7:30 am hungover and tired as shit, just to sleep an hour so I can get to work.

It’s nice to know I still got my Office Champ Shoes.

Tags: BBQ, Birthdays, Koraku, WTF Weekend

WTF Weekend: FU OC

It was an OC weekend for me. My cousin’s friends from Hawaii decided to stay their last few days in Huntington Beach so a few other friends and I decided to throw together an impromptu pub crawl of sorts on Main Street on Friday. Maybe it’s been years or my tastes have really changed but WTF man, Main Street is a meat market and not in a random party with good looking people kinda way. I’m talking ghetto slab. As in slab of meat. We hopped a few bars before we settled on a less crowded one, I can’t even remember the name, we were drawn in by offers of $3 shots which turned out to be really shitty Sex on the Beach – we opted for Patron instead.

My favorite part of the evenings were the drives. I came down from the Westside and we fast tracked at home, pulled over somewhere near commerce to pee near the off-ramp and shot gunned recession beers in the car before hitting main street. On the way home I stopped by Molca Salsa and ordered super nachos and a fish burrito. I got through half of both and started to head home when narcolepsy reared its ugly head and breathed a dragon toke of sandman swiss in my face. We Motel 6′d the shoulder of three off ramps before finally making it home at 5:30 am.

I was asked to whip up batches of Soju for a friend’s wedding reception and to be clear: flavored soju, I’m not exactly conjuring up vats of fermenting sweet potatoes in my pockets. We decided to have a tasting to see what flavors proved to be popular – in Irvine. The soon to be bride lives out there so I made another monster trek down to play soju time for a party. 6 batches and a Rock Band concert later we had two cops knocking at our door telling us to keep it down.

And seriously, a pre-printed form? You have got to be kidding me.

Orange County, you suck.

Tags: oc, WTF Weekend